


he who hangs the moon

by phangirlingforphan



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Angst, M/M, Reality, angst with happy ending, tw depression
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-02
Updated: 2017-11-02
Packaged: 2019-01-28 15:01:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,481
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12609256
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/phangirlingforphan/pseuds/phangirlingforphan
Summary: "He wonders occasionally if Dan wishes he wasn’t so cheerful. He wonders if he’s annoying. He wonders if maybe he could relate to Dan’s feelings a little easier then maybe he could help him or know what to say.He doesn’t, though. And is it selfish of him to wonder all of that? His head hurts."-in which depression is a ten letter word and knowing what to do becomes tricky





	he who hangs the moon

**Author's Note:**

> as someone who knows firsthand what depression is like, I felt as if this was something I wanted to write. I want to state the obvious that I am not Dan and I don't know what depression is like for him but this is my interpretation of what it's like to a) be depressed and b) be recovering and c) be the person who is looking after someone who has depression.
> 
> if you are someone who is going to find talk of depression difficult, I'll never be offended if you choose not to read this.

“I want to make a video about my depression,”

 _Amazing._ “I think that’s a really good idea, Dan,”

 

* * *

 

ii.

Black coffee (lots of it), and a packet of cookies.

Phil offers a mug to Dan and sits beside him, cradling the other in the palms of his hands. The warmth is satisfying in the chillier weather they’re transitioning into. Outside, he can see the tops of trees with once green leaves slowly fading to brown and shrivelling up. He wonders where the year’s disappeared to.

“How do you want to go about it? Sit-down style or maybe with some sketches?”

Dan’s fingers drum against the ceramic of the mug. His eyebrows furrow. “I dunno. Is using comedy a fucked up thing to do when you’re making a video about depression?” 

“A lot of people use comedy to talk about things they’re uncomfortable with. I don’t think it’d be weird. Besides, your channel is kinda known for being funny and albeit a little dark, it’s probably expected,”

Dan uncrosses his legs and unceremoniously stretches them across Phil’s lap. “That’s the thing, though. It’s expected. It’s not the sort of thing you can joke about. You said yourself, my viewers are used to dark humour and satire so to suddenly do a video that’s literally me staring into a camera and talking about depression feels fucking weird.” 

To Dan’s surprise, Phil shrugs. “Then why not add sketches? You said it yourself, it’s not a lighthearted topic, but at the same time it doesn’t have to be a completely gloomy video. It has a happy ending and that’ll give a lot of people hope.” 

Dan’s half-awake stupor renders him a little useless mostly. He’s all wild-haired and dozy, eyes closing every time he sips on his coffee; barely awake and able to filter any thoughts properly. But Phil has to admit that he’s missed these mornings of them together, sat on the sofa, not cuddling but still close. It’s a form of intimacy that they only allow the rising sun to see.

 He and Phil aren’t ones for massive displays of affection or whispering sweet nothings - they’ll do roses for Valentine’s Day and a glass of wine on anniversaries, sure, but monologues about how in love they are was never their thing. Maybe once, when they were in that stage where their self-control around each other was non-existent, but not now.

Phil doesn’t need to say a lot for Dan to know he means it earnestly. He settles for a, “I think you’re doing a good thing. A really good thing, actually. I’m with you every step of the way.” 

A smile is shared, it’s a little coy and Phil knows nothing else needs to be said.

* * *

**October 2014**

Dan comes home and Phil can finally stop holding his breath.

He hears the stomping of his feet on the stairs, the shrugging off of a coat and the slamming of a bedroom door.

He doesn’t know what to do. He never knows what to do.

His eyes stare into the darkness enveloping the hallway. The nights are drawing in so quickly now, they don’t creep up on you anymore. One minute it’s sunshine, a streak of orange darts across the sky and then it’s dark. A flick of a switch. 

Phil sometimes hates who he is. He sees the comments on his videos: ‘too happy’, ‘over the top’ and ‘weird’. He likes colour, he enjoys wearing shirts with graphics on them and having a bedspread that’s patchwork green. There are a lot of people who don’t like colour, who oppose his optimistic nature, who criticise him for ‘putting it on’ when in truth it’s exactly who he is.

He wonders occasionally if Dan wishes he wasn’t so cheerful. He wonders if he’s annoying. He wonders if maybe he could relate to Dan’s feelings a little easier then maybe he could help him or know what to say.

He doesn’t, though. And is it selfish of him to wonder all of that? His head hurts. 

-

* * *

**Now.**

Phil reads Dan’s script. He reads it twice. And then again because those first two times don’t count. He’s too caught up in the content and these feelings swelling around his stomach to form any coherent opinion yet. 

“I think it’s...pretty perfect, actually,” Phil says.

Dan looks unsure. “Is it? I’ve written that fucking thing five times now and I can’t decipher whether it feels over the top or pretentious or cheesy or…” he pauses, raising an eyebrow at Phil. “What? You’re giving me a look.”

Phil sniggers. “I think you need to stop worrying,”

Dan seems unimpressed by the answer. His lips purse together and he slowly takes back the script from Phil’s hand. His eyes scan through it quickly.

“If there’s an issue with it I’d rather you said. Come on,” Dan implores, “I know you too well, you’re holding back.” 

Phil’s sigh stretches into a smile. “I’m just...proud of you. I think it’s a really great script.” 

He takes satisfaction in watching Dan’s face colour pink as realisation dawns. “Oh. Thank you,” he mumbles, “I, erm, yeah,” his speech trails off into a nervous giggle. 

“It’s gonna be fine. It’ll go down really well, I’m sure of it.” 

“I hope so,” Dan says, “It isn’t very...Dan. Then again, self-deprecation and humour based on my sad life is generally the theme of my channel so perhaps it is.” 

Phil looks exasperated. “You’re so stubborn, Dan. Look, okay, I’m gonna be a little bit sweet now so prepare yourself,” he warns jokingly, although Dan knows there’s an underlying seriousness there.

“Go for it,” Dan encourages, grinning.

“You’ve done a lot, haven’t you? You got through the worst and this is the proof. Not just the script but this, this is the proof,” Phil gestures around their lounge, to the light-up ampersand figure they have, the awards on the mantelpiece, the memorabilia from the various states they visited on tour last year, “all of this stuff you’ve done is proof that even when you’re going through something I can only imagine, you can accomplish a lot. You’ve earned all of this and this video is going to help a lot of people.”

Dan stares at him, a blank expression on his face that Phil can’t read. 

“That probably made little sense but as someone who’s been glued to you the past eight years, let me tell you, you’ve made a huge recovery.”

The stare softens into a smile which turns into a kiss on Phil’s cheek. “You’re kinda cute, you know.”

“I mean, way to state the obvious,”

“And uh,” Dan stammers, “Thank you. Not just for that. You know.”

 _None of this was me._ “You don’t need to thank me at all. Just remember in spite of everything, this is who you are.”

Dan suddenly looks thoughtful and turns back to his script, “Can I use that? That in spite of everything thing? Maybe rework it a little.” 

“Be my guest. I am so full of wisdom.”

* * *

**2015.**

It takes three therapists until Dan finds the right one.

The pills work well these days. He feels a little spaced out sometimes and being unable to cry every now and again is bizarre, but they work.

On the bad nights, they’ll sit in their pyjamas all day. Phil will roll with it, order food and watch some shows that they don’t have to concentrate too hard on. 

On the really bad nights, Dan sits in the bath. Phil ran him one offhandedly and sure the bath bombs are pretty and turn the water bright purple, and okay so they’re not a cure and the candles are probably a bit much, but it’s something and if it means he can somehow help look after Dan without being too invasive, he’s going to do what he can.

 

-

 

They start yoga.

Phil is despicably unfit and he can’t get anywhere near to his toes when the instructor on the YouTube video says to touch them.

Dan is somewhat more graceful. He can do some weird snake or cobra pose or something and afterwards he even says he enjoyed it whilst Phil nods, coughs up a lung and says they should do it again tomorrow.

 

* * *

**October 11th 2017.**

 

“It’s up,” Phil confirms. He looks over at Dan, “Happy?”

 _Yes. I’m a bit scared to say that sometimes still, but I am._ Dan just nods, head aching a little, and rests on Phil’s shoulder.

There’s this weird sense of a weight being lifted. He tweets that as a reply to somebody when they ask him if it felt good to post it and he means it.

“What do you want to do with the rest of the evening?” 

Dan doesn’t need to think. “Order pizza? Watch something funny? Just chill out? Y’know, the usual?”

“The usual sounds perfect to me.”

**\- Fin**

**Author's Note:**

> thank you so much for reading! I hope you enjoyed it and if you did please leave kudos/comments down there! - Lily.


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